


Losing the Battle, Winning the War

by Dream_wia_dream



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_wia_dream/pseuds/Dream_wia_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first try to stop bawling there in the middle of the field lasted forty-eight seconds, then he gave up, realizing he just couldn't help it. With tears trailing down his face, he quickly glanced up to see who was watching him. Most of the cameras were directed at the other players and their coach (of course; he'd never been as important), but for a moment, he caught somebody's eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing the Battle, Winning the War

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on 7/27/2006 with co-author moonix.  
> Beta-ed by brumeux77
> 
> Adding absolutely GORGEOUS artwork by the talented Anaomi - anaomilovelovelove.tumblr.com!  
> There's also a translation of this into chinese here: http://anaomilahm.lofter.com/post/46b036_25971f5 by the same wonderful talent!

  
artwork by [Anaomi](http://anaomilovelovelove.tumblr.com/)

His first try to stop bawling there in the middle of the field lasted forty-eight seconds, then he gave up, realizing he just couldn't  _help_  it. With tears trailing down his face, he quickly glanced up to see who was watching him. Most of the cameras were directed at the other players and their coach (of course; he'd never been as important), but for a moment, he caught somebody's eye.

He saw his own disappointment and sadness echoed on Miro's face. Sidling across the field, they practically fell into each other. Strong arms supporting each other in a manly hug. He clung to Miro's shirt as new sobs wracked through his body, but Miro was already letting him go again.

Miro stepped back and motioned for Philipp to follow him...mouthing the words "come with me".

Philipp felt too heartbroken right now to even notice that yesterday, or any other day, he would have jumped at the chance to be alone with him; tonight, he could only trudge after him with an arm half across his face to keep this mess at least partly at bay.

Still sniffling, Philipp followed him into the locker area, confused for a moment when Miro walked past the door to the changing area. Miro reached out his hand, beckoning, and went further into the darkness of the bowel of the stadium.

Phillip was limping a bit, almost too exhausted to even stand up properly, but he shook his head softly when they encountered one of the team doctors on their way and went on. At last, Miro stopped before a door Philipp couldn't remember entering before. With a sigh, Miro turned around to face him and for the first time since the whisper on the field, spoke: "Philipp" - his voice broke in the middle, rough with emotion.

"It actually happened, didn't it? We lost," Philipp forced out, trying hard to keep from breaking into tears again, and, overwhelmed by the great flood of released tension and disappointment, he nearly fell to his knees when Miro touched his burning shoulder. With a soft gasp, Philipp felt himself tugged against the larger man's chest. He leaned into the strong arms that snaked around him.

"You... you were great today, you know that?" Miro muttered into his neck, voice hoarse and warm, and Philipp couldn't breathe for a moment, shivering uncontrollably. "Cold? I didn't think...c'mon in," Miro whispered, opening the door behind him with one hand, while still holding Philipp close with the other.

In the darkness, they bumped against something, and all of a sudden, they were on the floor, Philipp with his back to a cupboard and Miro touching him in more places than he could count: it was harder than those last two minutes of the game, harder than running with cramps in your legs, to keep from moaning his name then and there.

Philipp's breath caught in his chest as Miro slid across him, trying to set right tangled limbs. And just as he thought the other man would pull away completely, Miro turned to nuzzle the sweaty skin of his neck.

A quivering, little moan spilled from his lips; and not for the first time today did he wish he could turn back the time and set everything right again, but even his hopes that Miro perhaps hadn't heard it were shattered when the older man lifted his head to stare at him (and he looked a little scared, then).

Philipp turned his head, burying his mouth in his shoulder to shut out any more inopportune sounds falling from his lips. He couldn't bear to look at the questions he knew were present on Miro's face. Suddenly, there were soft fingers on his chin, maneuvering his face out of the damp shirt, and he blinked rapidly at Miro's face just inches away from his own. "Don't hide."

"I wasn..." his voice trailed off with a groan as he finally looked at Miro and saw the passion burning there. The passion he'd been longing to see directed at him. Time seemed to pause for a moment while the two stared at each other.

Then something snapped, and they both jerked forward, capturing each other's lips with such desperation that their teeth bumped and their tongues clashed and they couldn't help tearing at each other's shirts, because their hands couldn't stand the tension, had to yank and twist at something while their hearts were thundering away within their chests.

Philipp felt Miro begin to slide away and slipped his fingers out of the other man's shirt to wrap around his biceps. With a grunt, Miro wrapped his arms around Philipp's back, sitting up and pulling his body close, never losing the rough contact of the desperate kisses. The shift of position made it blatantly obvious that they were both hard, easily brought to this point by exhaustion, fury, shock and all the other pent-up feelings inside them, and Philipp whimpered when Miro rubbed his thigh a bit against his groin.

The whimper seemed to break something inside Miro. With a grunt, he grabbed Philipp’s hips and began to thrust against the smaller body. All the bumps, bruises and scratches were ignored to get closer to  _THIS FEELING._

Philipp didn't even care to get his pants off; the friction was enough to drive him mad, and he grabbed on to Miro for dear life when he felt something surging up inside him until he thought he'd pass out - even if he'd wanted, he couldn't hold back his orgasm, couldn't hold back the ragged cry tearing from his mouth and the curses and the shame, because damn but he'd just practically lost his virginity to Miro.

As Philipp shuddered out his release, Miro stopped all movement and held him close. Philipp's staccato heartbeat began to slow as Miro caressed his body, holding him as gently as a china doll. "O--Okay?" Miro's rough voice stuttered out as he stared at Philipp with a predatory glare. 

Philipp didn't trust his voice yet, so he nodded vehemently, just to get him to stop looking at him, because he was flushed and sweaty and dirty and completely open, but Miro didn't avert his eyes, until suddenly they flickered closed and he let out a soft, breathless groan.

As Miro reached down between their bodies to adjust his trapped erection, Philipp shyly followed grasping the bulge of the older man's cock. Both men groaned more loudly at that first contact. Feeling braver, Philipp leant forward, taking Miro's bottom lip and sucking it into his own mouth.

Encouraged by the sounds he was making, Philipp let his hand caress the gentle hardness under the cloth, trying to remember how he himself liked to be touched, but before he was able to establish a rhythm (that he kept messing up anyways because he got confused by the angle, but Miro seemed to like it), the man now half on top of him shuddered and choked out a small, hoarse noise, while the front of his pants dampened.

Miro slumped back to lie on the floor and pulled Philipp down to lie on top of him. "I think we need a shower after that," Miro chuckled as he pushed Philipp's sweaty fringe off his forehead. For the first time since they entered, Philipp looked around the room.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he recognized the shapes of empty locker room benches, some of them broken or covered in what appeared to be the remnants of similar "secret activities" - cigarette ashes, sweet wrappers, porn magazines and empty condom packets, at which Philipp  _tried_  not to blush. "They'll... search for us...", he mumbled insecurely.

Miro stood and reached down to pull Philipp to standing. Philipp stretched out his hand and was startled when he was yanked up and against Miro's chest once again. "They won't find us," Miro smirked as he turned to walk toward the showers.

Philipp stumbled after him and was flustered when he saw that Miro was taking off his clothes already, just like that, so that when he reached the door, he stopped and fumbled with the hem of his shirt - "What's the matter?" Miro asked, and he swallowed.

"It's...I don't kn...just," Philipp stuttered, staring at the hem of his dirty shirt, unsure what his next step should be. Miro chuckled and turned, shucking the rest of his clothes and walking bare into the shower. Philipp paused for a moment, then began to cautiously remove his jersey when he heard the water begin to fall.

Still trembling, he folded his clothes into as neat a pile as his weak hands could manage, something for which his teammates always teased him, and proceeded to turn on the water two showers down from the stall Miro was using.

As the hot water beat down, Philipp began to relax. When he was reaching up to the showerhead to adjust the spray, Miro's large hands grasped his wrists as he felt the warm body slide against him. "Need any help with that?" 

Philipp's insides twisted with a mix of pleasure and nervousness, but still he turned around, completely breathless again at the feel of Miro's naked body pressed tightly against him, already hard again, and pulled his head down for another desperate kiss.

Miro chuckled at Philipp's fervor, but began noisily sucking on the smaller man's mouth all the same. Roughened hands began to wander across heat-reddened skin as the two ground against each other with a violent desperation.

Philipp's legs trembled so from the earlier strain that Miro had to hold him up, but it didn't matter because then one of Miro's hands was between his legs, first on his cock, then gently further on, insistently and so tenderly that Philipp just wasn't able to tell him to stop right there before this went into a direction he wasn't sure he was comfortable with.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, Miro trailed his fingertips across Philipp's bollocks and lightly traced the outline of the pucker behind them. All thought of resistance began to seep from Philipp’s mind as he spread his legs a bit wider to encourage the other man.

"You like that?" Miro whispered into a panting Philipp's ear, his finger pressing softly against the opening Philipp hadn't known was so sensitive, and when it slipped just a few millimetres past the tight ring of muscles, Philipp cried out in surprise, fear and the desire to push down on that finger, hard.

"I think you DO like that," Miro continued as he slowly pulled his finger back out. Philipp whimpered at the loss and began to grasp at the wet body before him, unsure what he was asking for. Miro quickly lifted his hand to his face and sucked in one finger. Slowly weaving his tongue around leaving the digit glistening with his saliva. Then, just as quickly as he'd removed it, Miro trailed his finger back down to Philip's opening and slid the moistened finger back inside the warm heat.

This time, he pushed it deep inside with one skilled movement, grazing along as much untouched muscle as the younger man could take, and Philipp was only dimly aware of the half-sob half-shout he let out at the new and stimulating sensation that was tearing at his already tight nerves.

"So eager, aren't we," Miro chuckled. "Mmm..you like this. You want more? Want.Me.In.Here?" Each word of the last sentence was punctuated by a deep thrust brushing something inside Philipp that made him lose the last of his reserve.

"Ohh...Ffff- oh just...yes. YES please..umm..oh, I mean...unnnn," Philipp began to babble, unsure what he actually wanted.

Miro grinned slickly against his temple, breathed hot air on his skin and slowly pulled his finger out, which was met by a groan on Philipp's side. But just as he was starting to spread Philipp's legs, they heard an angry shout outside the locker room doors, and it sounded like their names, only it wasn't passion-filled at all, it was fed-up and slightly panicky and urgent, because they were probably looking all over for them, and Miro banged his fist against the wall, cursing. Philipp pushed him off in a violent surge of panic. "Go! Just, GO! Tell them  _anything_!"

Miro stalked out of the shower, barely pausing to grab a towel to wrap around his waist before barging out the locker room door to face whomever it was yelling for them. Philipp let out the breath he'd been holding when he realized the voices weren't going to come into the locker room. Slowly, he also realized that the voices and Miro were getting further away. Miro had left him alone in a horribly aroused state.

The panic came back for a moment before he swallowed it back down with the last grains of discipline he had left, then he just gave in and leaned back against the wall. His hands were wrapped around his cock and between his legs before he even noticed what he was doing or could worry about  _how exactly_  he was supposed to do this, but then his mind exploded with Miro's voice - "Want.Me.In.Here." - and Miro's calloused, knowing touch, and the air filled with his presence until Philipp couldn't take it anymore and shoved a finger inside himself, only it wasn't gentle and thrilling and nerve-racking like before, it was shaky and unskilled and it hurt, but he couldn't stop now, wanted to have at least something of the earlier feeling...

He belatedly remembered Miro's licking lubrication, and quickly licked one of the fingers that hadn't already been inside him (because he couldn't quite bring himself to do that). With a quick thrust, he shoved the slick finger back inside his body. The awkward position ignored, he wiggled his finger around until he found a slightly more comfortable angle and with his other hand began to stroke his hard cock.

He came with quick, short gasps and the memory of Miro still on the tip of his tongue; then simply fell down to the floor, slumped over and sat there for a good ten minutes before he could bring himself to get up, turn off the shower and skid around the locker room until he found a forgotten stack of towels in one of the cupboards.

He gingerly dried himself with the slightly dusty towel and gathered his clothes. Leaving the locker room behind with one last glance, he closed the door behind him and made his way down to their actual locker room. Impatient to find his clothes, and some semblance of his normal behavior. And maybe...but no, he told himself, he wasn't going to go looking for Miro.

Keeping his eyes glued to the floor, he pushed the door open, but when he suddenly knew that the room was crowded with EVERYONE BUT MIRO, he knew that he had snatched a glance after all. With burning red cheeks, he shoved his soiled clothes deep into his bag and struggled to get some clean ones out of it without letting the towel around his waist drop to the floor. He was fully aware that the others were looking at him confusedly, waiting for some sort of explanation as to where he'd been, much less  _showered_.

He quickly pulled on clean clothes and dashed out of the locker room, still pulling his shirt on over his head. He wandered the halls aimlessly for a few minutes. Unable to remember where he should be going. Only able to remember the feeling of Miro's lips on his skin. Then, as if thinking of the man conjured him, Philipp found himself face to face, in some unknown hall, with Miro.

Flushing furiously (and feeling ugly all of a sudden in the blaring artificial light of the hall: tired, ruffled, dark-eyed from the tears and dressed in loose trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that he pulled over his hands like always, and to him it seemed as if everybody could see it in his face what he'd just done), Philipp started to stutter helplessly and stared at the ground.

"You did well in the game today," Miro said, leaning casually against the wall. Philipp tried to look at the other man, to see if there was anything hidden in those cold words. But he couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes above waist-level. Blushing yet again, he fixed his eyes on the ground, not answering.

When he did glance up, he saw that Miro was dressed now as well in a t-shirt and slacks, and that he was watching him intently with something that seemed like awkward curiosity in his eyes, but Philipp decided it probably was only guarded mockery, when all of a sudden, somebody called "Miroslav! Are you ready? The taxi is there."

Lukas came around the corner, beckoning to Miro, oblivious to the tension racketing between the two. Miro pushed off from the wall to walk around Philipp without a backward glance. Philipp reached out, plucking at the larger man's sleeve to stop him. "Wh-what that is, where you going?" he stuttered.

For a second, Miro stopped and turned his head half around, though his eyes weren't looking at him. "We're going out for a drink before we return to the hotel... that reminds me, could you please tell the others to go on without us? I don't know how long we'll be gone," he said. And with that, he walked away quickly to catch up with a waiting Lukas, who put his arm around his shoulders when he reached him.

Philipp turned and slumped against the wall Miro had so recently vacated. All energy and hopefulness was drained out of him with that single sentence. Miro had left him...alone.

His legs simply gave out under him, he was too much in pain, too exhausted; his limbs felt like lead and his stomach clenched because he hadn't eaten all day (despite of what the coach kept telling them) and thrown up twice yesterday - still he was convinced he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, he was too far gone for that. And this was how the others finally found him half an hour later.

As his teammates bundled him into the bus, and then his hotel room, Philipp's eyes never lost the glassy, far gazing stare. When the door to his room shut, closing out the light, all he could do was whisper: "Miro."

The memories rushed in on him as soon as he'd sat down on the floor next to the door: all the bad days, when people had forgotten to tell him that he'd played well too, when Miro had hugged Lukas after every game and not even looked at him twice, when he'd almost broken his arm and nobody had noticed how much in pain he'd been, when he'd broken up with his first real girlfriend and couldn't tell her it was because he couldn't bring himself to touch her and the others had only teased him about it, making crude jokes... It had become better with the new coach, he'd made sure to praise and encourage everyone of them, but sometimes there were days when people just didn't see him - especially Miro.

Sometimes it went beyond Miro not seeing him. It seemed that Miro was intentionally cruel. Picking on the faults he knew Philipp hated most: about his playing, about the way he dressed, even about the way he had his hair cut once. Miro's approval meant more to him than anyone else's. Maybe because he so rarely received it. He'd thought he had that approval this afternoon. Then Miro ripped it away once again.

Slowly, everything started to fall into place. Somehow, Miro must've found out about all of this - him being... interested in men, and especially him. Maybe even that he'd still been a virgin. It made sense for Miro to make him think he liked him, or wanted him, even, and then go and get himself drunk with Lukas, if he didn't wind up in his bed, even. He felt so ridiculous for not having cottoned on to that fact sooner.

His mind whirling with thoughts of his Miro (when had he become so possessive?) entwined with Lukas made something break inside. Something that shattered all the hurt and drove it deeper, piercing vital organs. Until all Philipp could do was curl around himself and sob. Silent shudders wracked his body as he cursed himself for being such an easily manipulated fool.

~In the meantime~ 

"Thanks, I really needed that," Miroslav said when he and Lukas entered the hotel, gently shielded by sunglasses and hooded sweaters. Lukas smiled knowingly at him; Miroslav hadn't exactly told him about what had happened between him and Philipp earlier, but he could read his friend enough that he could tell something had changed, only it seemed to bother Miroslav more than he admitted. The both of them had had The Talk about girlfriends and boyfriends and why it was possible to have both a long time ago, and so of course Lukas had noticed how Miroslav was watching his young teammate, and how hard he tried not to let anything slip. (Though sometimes he tried a little too hard, perhaps.)

When they reached the floor the team had taken over, Miro hesitated, thinking about turning down the hallway to Philipp's room. "Miro!" He turned around to see another of their teammates trying to catch his attention. "Have you seen...do you know what's wrong with Philipp?"

"Why would I? What do you mean, what's wrong with Philipp?"

"He seemed really upset when we brought him back to the hotel and took him to his room."

"Why did he have to be taken...nevermind, I'll just go check on the boy." Miro whirled, resolutely striding toward Philipp's door.

"Miroslav – wait," Lukas called after him and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, a somewhat guilty, worried expression on his face. "Listen... I think the boy likes you. Just... don't, you know. Just be nice to him." Miroslav nodded, muttering a hoarse "thanks", and Lukas watched him as he went along the corridor, counting the doors until he reached Philipp's room. Sighing, he went to his own, hoping the best for his friend.

Opening the door to his room, Miro gave one last quick glance back at Philipp's. Slowly he entered the room, closing the door behind him, plunging it into semi-darkness. He strode across the room, and collapsed across his bed. The conversation and alcohol with Lukas had drained him. Shortly, he fell asleep sprawled on top of the duvet, still clothed. Some hours later, he awoke to a pounding on his door.

Suddenly wide awake - actually, he'd been on edge the whole night, tossing and turning because of the heat and the exhaustion in his hurting legs - he stood up, padded across the floor and unlocked his door. "What is it?" he said. Michael, their team captain, stood before him in boxers and t-shirt, looking slightly unsettled. "It's Philipp. Something was wrong with him the whole evening after, well, after he came back from wherever, and I just heard something smash in his room, but he won't let me or the others in. Can't you try?"

Scrubbing the sleep from his face, Miro walked down the hall to Philipp's door. Several of the players were grouped around it, and he could hear crashing from inside the room. "Won't let us in," another teammate reiterated. Miro walked up, and slammed his palm against the door. The crashing inside stopped, but there was no answer. "Philipp, let me in," he spoke normally to the man he knew was listening on the other side of the door. As the lock clicked open, Miro turned to their teammates, shooing them away before opening the door and going in.

It was dark inside, was the first thing he noticed; dark and warm. Then he heard harsh breathing to his side, and when he felt around for the lightswitch and pressed it, he saw that Philipp was leaning against the wall next to the door, tearstreaks on his face and a bleeding hand held tight to his chest. What he could make out before Philipp glared at him and punched the light out again was a mess of toppled over chairs, smashed bottles and other items strewn across the floor of the room. "Phil-," he began, "what the hell-"

Philipp began to whisper something Miro couldn't make out. Straining in the dark, he walked forward to where he'd seen Philipp last in the flash of light. Standing before the breath ghosting across his shoulder, Miro reached out a hand toward Philipp. Philipp batted the hand away and staggered across the room, displacing the detritus of the destroyed room.

"Would you-" Miro began anew, and suddenly Philipp began to shout at him and whatever he'd been holding in his left hand crashed to the floor again. "Well, did you have a good laugh at me with him? Did you tell him every detail, every stupid little bit? Who of you came up with the idea first, then, huh? WHO OF YOU?!"

Miro moved across the room to turn on the bedside lamp. Finding it on the floor, he flipped the switch to find that it still worked. He studied Philipp in the pale lamplight, still clutching his bleeding hand, and gasping for breath. "Phil, I don't... I'm not sure… what you mean," Miro started softly. Placing the lamp back on the bedside table, he walked toward his shivering teammate.

"We should do something about your hand," he said and tried to pry it gently away from Philipp's chest, but he only clutched it tighter. Light shivered across almost dried blood. "Don't...," Philipp moaned. "Don't touch me." Slightly exasperated, Miro drew back and took a closer look at him. He was still dressed the same as before, only his feet were bare and had small, blood-smeared cuts on them, and his cheekbones, which were still a little bruised from an earlier game, wore a tired glamour of sweat. "Have you even slept?" Miro asked. Philipp shook his head.

"Will you tell me why you're so upset?" Miro tried anew as Philipp shook his head again and tried to pull further away. He shrank back as Miro stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders, swinging the bloodstained man to sit on his bed. "Sit here now and TELL ME WHAT...tell me what you meant by all that, by all this," Miro yelled as he gestured to the room with a waving hand.

Philipp's shoulders trembled violently. He squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head, but still managed to force a whisper out from between his clenched teeth. "You bloody fucking stupid bloody bastard... I thought...," then he cut himself off, and first it seemed as if he was crying, but on closer inspection Miro saw that the sobs didn't quite come out. His chest heaved and he always swallowed the noises coming out of his throat at the last minute - and still this made him look more desperate and crushed than a million tears would have.

Kneeling in front of the broken man, he started to reach out to shake some sense into him, until he remembered Lukas' warning. Be nice to him. Reaching more softly, Miro wrapped one large hand around the back of Philipp’s neck and manoeuvred his head until they were eye-to-eye. "Tell me...I'm here, tell me why I'm a bloody bastard." Miro whispered while soothing the heated skin at the back of Philipp's head with small strokes of his fingers.

This time, Philipp really started to sob into Miro's rough palm, and his anger seemed to crumble. "I... you... and then you just... and I th-thought you liked me," he stammered through the tears, shaking all over, and with a very sudden, scared movement Miro wrapped his arms around him, pressing him close and caressing his neck, head and jaw. "You silly... silly thing. Of course I like you," he whispered, and Philipp went completely slack in his arms.

Moving further up the bed, Miro cleared a place for them to lie. He rolled on his back, pulling Philipp's sobbing frame to curl around his body. As Philipp’s shuddering began to subside, the stroking and comforting hands became more insistent. Miro realized what he was doing and paused. When the movement ceased, Philipp pulled his head from his chest to whisper a question, "Miro?" Miro leaned forward and brushed his lips across Philipp's.

"Why did you... with Lukas...," Philipp muttered, a bit abashed, and Miro smiled against his chin. "I just needed to get a clear head," he said. "I was confused as hell and didn't know how to treat you. I just thought that not being around all that, not being around you, would make things better. I'm sorry I hurt you." Philipp's arms clenched around him, then he wiped his nose with his sleeve and smeared a little blood on his face. "Wait," Miro said, taking his hand, and with a gentle swipe of his tongue began to lick the wounds clean. Philipp shuddered in wonder and, if he was completely honest, some strange sort of pleasure.

With the wound cleaned, it started bleeding slightly again. Miro reached down and wrapped the hand in the shirt he was still wearing, squeezing Philip's hand lightly to stop the bleeding. Philip gasped as the painful pleasure sent a jolt straight to his groin. "And you...what did you DO when I left you?" Miro purred as he noticed Philipp's reaction, "Did you stay there and finish your shower like a good boy? Or did you finish in the shower like a naughty boy." He punctuated the last question with a tighter squeeze, causing Philipp to moan.

A miserable flush crept across Philipp's cheeks again - he'd tried to forget about this humiliation, forget about what he hadn't been able to stop himself from doing, and he had hoped Miro would have the decency not to ask. His breath was shallow by now, hitching every time Miro's knee bumped his legs or his shoulder brushed his. "Well?" Miro crooned and brought his blood-stained lips closer to Philipp's. All the while he didn't release the pressure on his hand, and his foot was slowly sliding up his calf. "I... I didn't... didn't do anything," Philipp panted, but even as he was saying this, he could hear his voice waver and feel his cheeks darken.

"You mean you DIDN'T touch thisss?" Miro whispered sibilantly as he trailed light fingers across Philipp's burgeoning erection. Philipp squeaked and tried to back his body away from the questing hand. "And you didn't finish what I started here?" Miro growled as he trailed a hand around to grasp Philipp's buttock. Philipp threw his head back groaning as Miro attached his mouth to the writhing man's throat.

"No.. I... I don't...” Philipp stuttered with a small voice, wanting to die just then, only the tongue swirling down the length of his jaw and throat felt so good, so embarrassingly good... "Don't lie to me, Phil," Miro whispered on his damp skin, and Philipp moaned desperately. One of Miro's hands had started to unzip his trousers, the other held him in place. And then all movement stilled. "Tell me what you did... what you imagined I'd do to you.”

"I...I can't," Philipp moaned in frustration. "I want...you to...I just don't know how to..."

"Yes, you can, you do know how to tell me. Do you want me to stroke your cock?" Philipp blushed brightly to hear Miro say what he was thinking. "Do you want me to lick you? Do you want me to fuck you?" Miro punctuated each question with a tighter grasp on Philipp until they were pressed together from shoulder to knee.

One last, gentle thrust, and hearing Miro breathe almost as fast as he did finally gave him a shove. "...Y-yes," he choked out, clutching on to Miro's shirt, not daring to look at him; still he was given a hard wet kiss as a reward. Feeling slightly more confident now, he mumbled: "I want... you to do what you did earlier, with your... finger."

Miro laughed, bringing his hand up between their faces. "You mean this finger?" he chuckled, sucking on his index finger. "How about more than one?" as he slid three fingers into his mouth. Philipp's eyes went wide at the thought of all those fingers...up there. Keeping eye contact with Philipp, Miro carefully slid his moistened fingers down the back of Philipp's pants, trailing across clenched muscles. "Shhhh...it's OK, Phil, relax. Let me in."

"I... it's... I'ven'tdonethisbefore," Philipp whispered almost inaudibly, but Miro understood and looked him directly in the eyes, seeming kind of proud, surprised, but also reassuring. "Really? I mean... nevermind. I won't hurt you, okay? I won't hurt you." When Philipp closed his eyes and nodded, Miro undressed him, lovingly stripping his trousers and boxers from him until he was naked from the waist down. "Lie on your stomach for a moment," he instructed and shoved a pillow under his stomach. He could see that Philipp was still tense.

Miro paused, looking down at the bloody mess of his shirt, and stripped it off. Pausing in contemplation, he quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothing. Philipp's body laid out across the bed was giving him a plethora of ideas... each one dirtier than the last. Shifting carefully back between the vee of Philipp's legs, Miro placed his hands on Philipp's hips. "Shhhh," he soothed and began to trail kisses down the younger man's back, ending with a nip on each buttock. Philipp tensed as he felt Miro approach his target. "Tense again... relax," Miro whispered.

"I'm trying," Philipp whined, exasperated. "You do know that you're about to shove your fingers up my ass, yeah?" suddenly exploded out of the man who could barely force himself to remain lying face down, his nerves long since completely overloaded. A second later, he realized what he'd just said and covered his burning face in a cool pillow, muttering "oh god oh god..." Miro chuckled, pushing Philipp's shirt up as far as it went, and continued to stroke his thighs. "See, you *can* say it. But if you're not comfortable with me 'shoving my fingers up your ass', I'd... know something else," he said, gingerly.

"Wha?" Philipp started to ask when he felt Miro's tongue drawing small circles on his back, on his thighs, and finally on his bum. He started to tense, and then remembered he needed to relax. Relax, he told his body. Relax, I want this I want... He forced himself to relax. He managed to stay relaxed as he felt his cheeks part, a little embarrassed as he realized what Miro would be looking at. The small groan of contentment came from behind him as Philipp felt the soft scratch of Miro's chin. He tried to move forward and wriggle away from the touch... afraid of what was about to happen. He felt the first swipe of tongue across his hole and clenched every musle in his body whispering, "oh...can't just...can't".

Having expected this, Miro made soothing noises, blowing his breath deliberately across the sensitive spot, and felt Philipp shudder again under his hands. "We can stop, if you'd rather," he finally said, but Philipp only groaned. "No... I want this... *I want this*... I just... I'm sorry..." And while he was still busy apologizing, Miro seized the opportunity, sensing that Philipp was distracted enough to do it, and plunged his tongue past the tight ring of muscles.

Philipp shouted, thrusting his hips trying to both move away from and toward the questing tongue. Miro made the desicion for him and held him firmly to the bed as he thrust his tongue, moving in and out to loosen the hole. The contented moan he let slip did strange things to Philipp. "Oh aaaa...oh Mir –Mirrrr" he gasped as he shifted to the side, thrusting his trapped erection into the pillow below his hips. Miro thrust further into Philipp, brought his mouth into contact and sucked the taut skin around his tongue. It was more than Philipp could stand, and reaching down behind his body to grasp Miro's head, he thrust his hips up and shuddered in orgasm as he came, soaking his groin, belly, and the bed beneath him. 

It took him several moments to catch his breath and come to his senses, still whimpering. Miroslav licked, nibbled and kissed his way upwards, rubbing his slick hole with a finger, and whispered sounds of praise and affection to Philipp's sweat-damp skin. When Philipp opened his eyes again, he seemed scandalized. "Oh god.. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... this keeps happening... I just can't... I- I mean," he stuttered upon the realization that his mouth had run away with him once again, but Miro only smiled. "Shh, it's okay. You lasted long enough."

It took Philipp a moment to realize that there were fingers in his bum, and Miro's insistant erection prodding his hip. "D'you want..?" Philip started at the same time Miro whispered "Can I...inside you?" "Yes," they both groaned in answer to the other's question. Miro sat back slightly guiding Philipp's hips back onto the pillow with his free hand. He began to look around for his trousers...for his wallet. Finding it, he slid out and opened the condom packet. With his fingers never leaving the warm heat of Philipp, he rolled the condom over his erection, groaning at the new tightness surrounding his cock.

Slowly, he started to stretch him, prepare him for what was about to come, and strangely, Philipp seemed to have lost most of his initial fear. He was pushing back against Miro’s careful fingers this time, not involuntarily and jerkily like last time, but with the ginger curiosity of a wary animal approaching a beckoning hand. Miro looked around for some sort of lubrication, but he could find none in the utter mess that was Philipp's room and grimaced. He'd have preferred to make this as easy as possible for Phil, but a little water from the (still unbroken) jug on the bedside table would have to do.

Unable to wait any longer, Miro shifted around, placing the head of his cock at Philip's entrance. "Ready for me?" he whispered.

"Yesss," Philip moaned back, canting his hips backward in anticipation.

"Remember, relax," Miro groaned as he sank into the enclosing warmth. Sinking all the way forward until his balls were nestled against Philipp, he forced himself to pause and make sure he was ready. After a minute or two, Philipp began to thrust backward again, and Miro took that as a sign to start moving.

At first, Philipp whimpered in pain, but when Miro slowed down and told him repeatedly to relax and take it easy, they found the right pace, their movements coordinated and both panting and moaning softly. After a while, Miroslav couldn't help but speed up just a little, and as he was met with no resistance or cry of pain, a bit more. He felt his orgasm building up inside him with a delicious tension. "...Phil," he ground out, and again and again, and then, when the intense wave of release washed over him quietly but suddenly, he almost ceased all movement and sighed the name once into Philipp's neck.

Miro collapsed forward, covering Philipp with his body, when there was a sudden pounding on the door. "Are you alright in there? Philipp, Miro, are you OK? What are you doing?" came the shouts of their teammates. Miro leaned forward, grabbing the first thing he could find and tossed the alarm clock at the door. "We're fine. Leave us alone, I'm finally shagging Philipp!" he shouted back at the door. As the laughter faded away, Miro curled around the blushing body beneath him, gathering Philipp to his chest. "OK there, luv?" he whispered as he nuzzled the sweaty man wrapped in his arms.

"I guess I should stop being embarrassed with you altogether, huh?" Philipp answered weakly and tried to smile. His heart was still pounding, not excitedly, not like during a game, but still intensely and loudly. "I don't want to have to face them tomorrow," he groaned and buried his head against Miro's chest.

The older man laughed quietly. "You played well today. You've got nothing to be ashamed of," he said.

"I've got you," Philipp pointed out, glaring, and Miro grinned.

"Yeah, you've got me."

THE END!


End file.
